


Warmth

by NoxObscuriial



Series: Overwatch Prose [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: I'm super rusty at this, Intimacy, Kinda prose?, M/M, McReaper76 - Freeform, Multi, Suggestive Themes, intimate, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoxObscuriial/pseuds/NoxObscuriial
Summary: Warmth.That was all he felt.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd! If you see any errors please let me know, also if you have any critique/tips! I used to write prose and poetry a lot back when I took creative writing and English classes back in college, but it's been a bit and I'm rusty. Trying to get back into the swing of things by writing erotic/intimate prose of my favorite pairings.  
> Lowkey in this Gabriel has long hair (like ufficiosulretro over @ tumblr draws him with sometimes), and this is post-fall of Overwatch. After bouncing off some ideas with a friend, we also kinda had the idea that Gabriel since he's technically dead gets cold easy and craves warmth, hint to the name of this fic and the subject somewhat.  
> Please enjoy!

Warmth.

That was all he felt.

Rough,

calloused hands dragged over his chest,

over his abdomen and sides.

Traced over scars that sent electricity racing down Gabriel’s spine,

like lightining making its contact with the earth.

He missed those pale hands,

roaming over his flesh,

rough,

but still ever soft.

Despite it all,

Jack was always warm.

 

A tanned body pressed up behind him,

running _hot_  and warming him to his core.

A slightly softer hand than the pale ones was felt,

on his front,

running through his hair.

A cold hand,

made of metal running over his hip,

a stark contrast to all the _warmth_.

Like molten rock meeting the cold embrace,

of the ocean’s kiss.

He missed that difference,

the difference between ice and fire,

the man behind him provided.

Despite it all,

Jesse was always warm.

 

Jesse’s teeth scraped over his shoulder,

surprisingly soft,

nothing like an animal,

as Jack’s lips pressed against his cheek.

A groan left him as Jack’s hand wrapped around him,

Gabe’s face coming to rest against the throat of his soldier.

He breathed in the scent there,

as if it was his only tie,

to the world around him,

other than the touches.

The _warmth_.

 

Jesse whispered soft things into his ear,

quiet words that sometimes Gabe couldn’t make out,

though he knew their meaning despite the fact,

they weren’t something he could comprehend.

Gabe’s breath was hot against Jack’s collarbone,

teeth bared in pleasure,

not out of pain.

Jesse whispered things against his ear,

and then there was the “I love you.”

Soft,

quiet,

warm.

Those words were pure warmth,

that sent his toes curling,

from the heat in his belly exploding out.

 

His breath was warm,

pants deep as his sides heaved in exhaustion,

as a thoroughbred does,

after a long,

fullfilling race.

He felt Jesse press up against him,

Jack mold against his front,

as if they were made to be with him.

Words and hands,

scents and safety,

_warm_.

Finally, warmth.


End file.
